


To Love Another Person is to See the Face of God

by Icarus5800



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And converse with me on a daily basis, Are forbidden from reading this thing, Awkward first time sex, Discussions of sex in bed, Forgive Me, Frottage, I value your opinions of me way too much, M/M, Please don't, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Seine, Saccharine love confessions, Terribly written awkward first time sex, The highest rated thing I have ever written, Those of you who know me well, Which means this is my first attempt at pseudo-porn, You will have no respect for me left if you read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarus5800/pseuds/Icarus5800
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A.K.A.  Awkward Old French Virgins Arguing About Who Gets to Bottom for Their First Time</p><p>^That is the title of the Word doc this is in.  Read the tags.  I am warning you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Love Another Person is to See the Face of God

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the meme that I have lost the link to. If anyone knows, help?

“You see, this is not—I do not know—that is, I have never—I—well.”

“Well?”

Sometime during his incoherent babbling, Valjean has taken to gesticulating wildly with his hands, as if they might be able to express what words could not.

“Well.”

Javert takes hold of both of Valjean’s hands in his own, patiently exasperated. “Valjean, contrary to popular myths perpetuated by brainless idiots at the police station, I cannot read minds nor do I possess any sort of clairvoyance. If there is something you wish me to know, you must tell me.”

Valjean breathes a sigh of profound defeat. “Very well. I suppose I have little enough cause to hide, from you who know me better than any mortal being.” He hesitates ever so slightly, but gathers the courage to plow on. An excess of blood heats up his face. “I have never been…intimate with any woman—or man.”

Javert’s lips curve in an imitation of a smile. He shall require much more practice in this fine art before Cosette will allow him to smile at her child. “I must confess I find that a relief.”

Valjean glances up at him uncomprehendingly. “Indeed?”

It is Javert’s turn to have a blush redden his cheeks, perfectly expressing the oxymoron of a coy tiger. Valjean is curiously affected by the sight. “It means that I would not be the only one flailing about without the faintest hint of an idea on what to do.”

Valjean appears rather surprised. “Is that so?’

“Believe me, mon cher, I have as little experience in such matters as you.”

“Well.”

“Well?”

Valjean tries his best to give Javert a scolding look. His efforts are ruined by the laughter that refuses to be suppressed. “Well, then we shall have to learn together, shall we not?”

“Indeed,” Javert says in a throaty rumble strangely reminiscent of a wild, possessive beast, “I find that…most agreeable.”

They gaze at each other, waiting for the other to proceed, to make the next move in their tentative endeavour. In consequence, they stand gazing at each other for quite some time.

Javert speaks first. “Well?”

Valjean kisses him. Surely a kiss would not be amiss.

It would appear that Javert concurs.

When they at last break apart, both are ready to do more. Valjean begins the rather arduous task of divesting Javert of his many layers of clothing. It would not be quite so difficult were his hands not trembling and jelly-like from the effects of that kiss.

His fingers on Javert’s buttons still when he hears the man’s next words.

“I am glad that you have been spared the full horrors of Toulon.”

Valjean swallows audibly and fights the impulse to step back, hands falling limply to his sides. Phantom screams of desperate men in the darkness of despair echo in his ears. The roughness of his voice has nothing to do with pleasure or desire. “Must you bring up that place now?”

Javert curses his own stupidity. “Forgive me, I did not think—!” He presses a palm over his eyes and collapses onto the bed, lying supine with his face towards the heavens as if imploring the merciful Lord for assistance in the tactful composition of words. The merciful Lord does not hear, or in any case chooses not to grant his prayer. “I am a fool.”

“No,” Valjean is always quick to reassure his love. “You meant well. I…I am glad of that, too.”

Another long silence reigns over the room, this time with Valjean standing at the foot of his bed and Javert atop it.

They are both having second thoughts regarding their decision to give this sex thing a try.

It is perhaps fortunate that neither is the sort to renege on their decisions, else their relationship may never successfully progress to the next stage. With the perseverance that enabled him to elude capture for decades, Valjean joins Javert on the bed.

The movement causes Javert to glance over, and they lay facing each other, once again locked in a chasm of uncertainty.

“Well?” Valjean asks. The single word contains a multitude of questions, seeking permission, seeking guidance, and most of all, seeking contact. Javert answers with a warm, lingering kiss.

Encouraged, Valjean resumes his previous task with a surer hand and Javert reciprocates eagerly, both beyond thoughts of propriety or decorum. It takes some time to remove all the clothing from their upper bodies, for their efforts are frequently interrupted by passionate, smoldering kisses, but eventually they succeed.

Valjean pauses with his hand on the fastener of Javert’s trousers. “Do you—ah, I mean—are you familiar with the…technicalities…of the act?”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean intercourse?” Valjean colours slightly at Javert’s habitual bluntness. “Not particularly, no.”

“In that case, how do you think we should proceed after attaining the state of nudity?” The words collide against each other oddly in his mouth, the excessive formality masking his insecurity.

“Surely you would know? Having been in—” Javert stops himself in time, but not before Valjean understood.

Toulon seems to be an unavoidable topic tonight.

“I could say the same of you, Javert. Though on the other side of the bars, you must have heard of it?”

“Oh, I have heard of it.” A mirthless chuckle accompanies the words, the harsh sound reverberating in the little room. “And I heard it, too. It was rather hard to ignore when one must patrol the hallways at night. I tried not to think too much on the subject. I had never looked. I had not wanted to sully my eyes with such sinful sights.” Javert’s voice is filled with contempt for the prisoners he had once guarded. Though he has accepted the truth of the transformation of one particular convict, Jean Valjean is to him an anomaly, hardly the rule.

Valjean’s body becomes rigid in his arms. “Sinful?”

Javert realizes his mistake. “No, I meant what they did, that was sinful. This—this is not driven by base, animalistic need, but by…,” the word is stuck in his throat. At last he says, “This is different.”

Valjean says nothing, but Javert can feel the gradual release of tension from his body. He silently congratulates himself on overcoming this hurdle created by his thoughtless words. But their earlier dilemma is not resolved. What is the next step after becoming naked?

He puts this question to Valjean.

Valjean reflects on the fact that he has blushed more in one night than in the previous sixty-odd years. He had never paid much heed to the activities of his fellow convicts, and his recollection is vague and indistinct. He has tried very, very hard to erase all memories of Toulon from his mind. But if Javert does not know, then it will be up to him to contribute what little second-hand experience he has to this encounter. “I believe one partner puts his…arousal in the other’s…” he coughs, waving a hand at nothing in particular, “…there.”

“There?”

Valjean’s face becomes impossibly redder. He wonders how attractive Javert would find a tomato. “You know…there.”

Javert’s eyes widen. “Oh! There.”

Valjean coughs again. He prays Javert would not inquire after his health. “We can worry about that later. Perhaps we should undress fully first?”

“Yes. Yes, we should.”

The removal of their trousers takes almost no time at all. They are both too acutely aware of what they may be doing next to lose themselves in kissing again.

They are soon nude as Adam and Eve once were in their innocence. Innocent would be the furthest thing from their proposed undertaking.

Hesitantly, Valjean places a hand on Javert’s half-hard length, and is pleased with the moan this single act elicits from the stoic man. He begins stroking it gently and watches in fascination as it engorges in his hand. Javert, immune as he is to the prying eyes of others, squirms under such intimate scrutiny.

“Stop it, Valjean. You are staring at it like a science experiment.”

Valjean lifts his eyes to Javert’s face, unaccountably amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen a science experiment?”

“…That is beside the point.”

“It is,” Valjean agrees, and continues his ministrations.

In retaliation, Javert grabs Valjean’s arousal with somewhat less care. The gasp Valjean makes is not entirely due to pain.

They have almost reached full hardness when Valjean suddenly stops.

Javert thinks that his flare of irritation is completely justified. “What is it now, Valjean?”

“About what we discussed previously…would you like to give it a try?”

Confusion gives way to understanding in a matter of seconds. “Oh. You mean…that.”

“Yes. That.”

They are still lying on their sides, their erections jutting between them. They consider each other uncertainly.

At last, Javert speaks, “If you want.”

Valjean shakes his head, or manages an approximation of it, what with his head resting on a pillow. His meaning is nevertheless clear enough. “No, if _you_ want.”

Javert stubbornly refuses to make the decision for them. “I want what you want.”

Valjean breathes a deep sigh. “Well, then.”

“Well?”

Having exhausted his supply of shame for one night, Valjean has no difficulty saying his next words. “I want you to take me, Javert.”

Javert’s breath hitches at the words, and for a moment he is certain that his heart has stopped beating, before it resumes at a far more frantic rate than before. He is unable to halt the rush of blood southwards, making him almost painfully hard in seconds, and he knows that Valjean has noticed his reaction. He curses himself for allowing a few simple words to have such an effect on him, yet cannot bring himself to be angry at Valjean for speaking them.

Despite his obvious interest, Javert denies the request. “I do not want to hurt you with my inexperience, Valjean. I think rather that it should be the reverse.”

Valjean thanks his consideration with a kiss, before whispering against his lips, “You forget, my friend, that I have no more experience than you do. It is far more likely for me to hurt you with my strength. I find myself unable to trust in my control tonight. This is the effect you have upon me.”

Javert shuts his eyes against the tender words, fearing what weakness they might reveal to one who knows him as well as Valjean does. “Sentimental old fool,” he mutters.

Valjean chuckles, sending a warm breath down his sensitive neck. He shivers against his will. “I simply think that it is past time we be honest with each other, don’t you? Considering our current positions.”

Javert wishes that Valjean would be as awkward in speaking about feelings as he is about sex. He truly does not need to fall deeper in love with the man. He tries to drown his emotions in the sensations of another kiss, but only succeeds in making them worse instead.

They pull apart, panting. Valjean’s eyes carefully search Javert’s face. “Well?”

“I cannot do it. I will not risk hurting you, Jean Valjean.”

Valjean huffs in frustration. Never did he think that this would be so difficult, and they have not even arrived at the actual intercourse. “I assure you, Javert, I am not so easily hurt.”

“Neither am I.”

Valjean almost gives in to the temptation to have a staring contest while fully aroused and lying naked in bed. He just barely manages to suppress that immature urge. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he turns Javert onto his back and climbs atop him, grinding their arousals together. The period of inactivity has not caused either to soften in the slightest, and the sudden friction surprises loud groans out of both. It is fortunate that they are alone in the house.

Valjean continues grinding against Javert as he leans down to swallow the delicious moans that escape the pale lips. The obscene sounds of the slapping of unclothed bodies and wet, urgent kisses are all that is heard in the room. Javert’s hand come to rest at his waist, gripping tightly as he meets Valjean thrust for thrust. Their movements are erratic and uncoordinated, too eager and lacking finesse. Neither seems to mind at all.

Javert utters a disappointed meow when Valjean pulls his lips away, which must be completely unintentional. Valjean cannot imagine the proud man ever allowing himself to sound like a kitten, and the thought causes him to smile, irritating Javert further. “What is it now?”

Valjean distracts him by wrapping a hand around their erections, and soon Javert’s hand joins his. It is an awkward, fumbling affair that only they, in their inexperience, could delight in. Or perhaps it is love, which makes all shared moments divine.

“About that other thing…perhaps we could try it another time?”

Javert drags his focus away from physical sensations long enough to understand Valjean’s words, and when he does, finds them not worth the effort. “Whatever you want. Just pay more attention to the present, damn you.”

Valjean would laugh at his impatience if he is not equally affected. He makes a mental note to research sexual intercourse between men better, before putting the matter from his mind entirely. He has no idea where he will find the research materials, and cannot care less.

Their movements grow increasingly desperate, their worlds narrowing down to only each other. Visions cloud with lust; thoughts become hazy with pleasure. Valjean bites down on Javert’s neck to smother his cry as he comes all over Javert’s chest, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave an unmistakable mark that the man belongs to him. The pain shatters Javert’s last vestige of control, and he soon follows Valjean into ecstasy. Their essences mix and join, as do their souls.

Valjean collapses beside Javert on the bed, trying to regain his breath. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What do you think of our…experiment?”

Javert appears to give the question some serious contemplation, before answering with a terse “Satisfactory.”

“Only satisfactory? Perhaps we shall have to rectify that, next time.” There is a question hidden in the statement that Valjean cannot bring himself to ask.

“Perhaps we will.” Yes, there will be a next time.

They clean themselves of the evidence of their exertions, before crawling back under the warm covers, Valjean’s chest pressed tightly against Javert’s back, his right arm around Javert’s waist.

They remain thus for some time, breathing gradually evening out. Javert is on the very verge of sleep when he feels Valjean plant a sleepy kiss on his crown, and hears a tenderly spoken, “I love you.”

Only when he believes Valjean to be asleep does Javert whisper, “As I you.”

He does not see the soft smile that curves Valjean's lips, as if he is dreaming the sweetest, most pleasant dream.


End file.
